


From the Mouth of Gabriel (Rough Draft)

by pondscum666



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hospital Setting, Multi, Other, Reader fic - Freeform, Reader/Genji - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8920495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pondscum666/pseuds/pondscum666
Summary: you and genji are in the overwatch trauma and recovery ward. discontinued ;(





	1. Before the Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this started as a self insert songfic on my phone but then I went Fuck it. Have fun. this is my first multi-chapter fic so expect the worst but hope for the best. id love to hear what you'd like for later chapters so leave a comment if you want! 
> 
> i find that writing "Y/n" in reader fics breaks immersion for me, so im going to do my best to use neutral pronouns and titles.
> 
> tw for brief mentions of IVs

Dr. Ziegler came in with a small cup of water and a tiny dish of pills. You met gazes and she smiled gently. She set down the dish on your white nightstand and offered you a pale blue pill with the number “15” etched into it. You took it between your thumb and forefinger and looked at her quizzically; it hurt to speak. 

“For the pain.” she reassured you and let you take the cup of water in your other hand. You were never fantastic with pills. Somehow they always caught on your throat and gave you an ulcer, or you plain just couldn't down them. As a child you preferred syringes of awful grape-flavored medicine because at least you could mask the taste with food. If you had a headache, you'd just sleep it out. You told yourself it was building pain tolerance (but damn it still hurt). 

You didn't want to look ungrateful to your doctor, so you put the bitter pill on your tongue first, swallowed a little bit of the water to down it, and then a little more to make sure it made its way to your stomach. For a moment you expected the familiar burn in the back of your throat to flare up but no such pain occurred. The wave of nerves passed and you relaxed your shoulders. Your eyes drifted to the clipboard Dr. Ziegler was holding. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked quietly. 

“Better than I did when I first arrived.” you answered, voice raspy. 

“I'd hope so.”

You blinked slowly. The lack of pain would send you to sleep soon.

“I need to keep you updated on your situation.” she continued. “You still have a lot of buckshot in your back, arm, and thigh. Your arm and thigh should heal fine considering there aren't any organs they could cause to malfunction. The buckshot there is shallow. Your back however,” she paused for a moment to review her clipboard. Your eyes trailed to your roommate who was confined to their bed, IVs stuck in their forearm. The shadow of their body behind the white curtain barely even rose to breathe. 

“The ones in your back are deeper, close to your kidneys and spine. We will certainly do our best, but there is a chance of damaging those parts, however the ones near your spine are not as deep as the ones by your kidneys. In terms of worst case scenarios, dialysis or a kidney transplant is the worst that could happen. At best, you make a full recovery and come in for check ups when needed.”

“Yeah. Okay.” you reply tiredly.

“We're going to remove the ones in your limbs first and hope the ones in your back get pushed further out naturally.”

“Sounds good.” You were still observing your roommate. “Can I ask you something, Dr. Ziegler?”

“You just did,” she laughed a little to herself, you manage to bring up a smile, “but sure.”

“Who is that?” You don't want to risk pain by moving your arm to point so you gesture with your head behind her. “Why are they behind a curtain? What's their name?” Your eyes are growing heavy with medicine-induced bliss.  
“Well, I cannot give you details because of confidentiality; but something terrible happened to him.”

“What happened?”

“I am not liable to disclose that.” You felt a little disheartened but continued to gaze across the room. 

“Can I talk to him?”

“If he wants to, I guess. I'd let him get as much rest as possible though.” You saw her blue eyes grow sad for a second. “He really needs it.” 

“Okay.” 

Your body felt warm and painless, it almost felt like a shame to waste the feeling on sleep.

“I can see that you're tired. Rest well.” She put a gentle hand on your shoulder briefly and then left, shutting the door and turning off the lights behind her.

The man across from you had been still for the whole conversation, but the silhouette of his arm began to fall. It passed as a shadow from behind the curtain but you saw his hand dip below the white fabric. Spots of blood dripped from his arm onto the floor, his whole arm was bandaged and his fingers were in braces. You noticed his palm had a deep deep gash in between his ring and little finger. It was held together by staples that protruded gently from his bandaged hand. 

Sleep began to overtake you and your blinks began to be longer and longer. God, you really needed rest but something about the man in the bed across from you was captivating. Maybe it was the lack of information you knew about him (the curtain didn't help, it only added to the secrecy.) But you held a tired gaze on his arm.

You decided to close your eyes before you saw something gut-wrenching; like his finger falling off or his hand splitting in half. As you closed your eyes you began to dream. And the dream was a nightmare.


	2. This is the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey u guys! i didnt expect to actually continue writing this. my one-off ass lmao. anyway, enjoy!
> 
> warning for: descriptions of violence, ptsd flashbacks, guns, and blood.

As you closed your eyes you began to dream.

And the dream was a nightmare. 

Somehow you remember all of it and also none of it. 

It starts with the first gunshot. Just a noise and then your vision focuses and you hear screaming. People run through you, some away from the dead omnic in a flee for their own lives and some toward him in an attempt to try and save him, revive his systems somehow. You are still. You are not scared but your heart beats hard in your chest, you can feel it through your dream. You run towards the gate, that closes off the street from the Clock Tower and Alderworth Hotel. The front door to the hotel burst open as you ran past it. The ground warps around you, sinking away from your feet but rising up to make you stumble. You smash hands-first into the cobblestone road but get up and keep running down the street. You're running towards the dead omnic and the giant crowd but you mean to run past it and get to a main street. The taxis and subways would obviously be clogged so the only way home was to run. 

More gunshots, there are many now, and they sound broader and closer. People are falling all around you as a shadow makes its way down the road. It seems to warp in and out of corporeality. A white mask hovers in the center of it. You realize it is the angel of death. 

You are trying to scream but no noise is coming out. 

You run away as you see it disappear in red smoke only to have the shadow come out of the ground a few yards in front of you. Your momentum does not let you stop. The mask stares down at you and a blunt force knocks you down. The ground rises up to meet you. The side of your face smashes into a rounded stone. You're face down when you hear the gunshot. There are only two but the pain spreads across your back and arm and leg.

Blood pours from you. You want to get up but you can't. You can't. You can't. You're blinking in and out of consciousness. You're afraid that if you close your eyes they'll stay closed for good; but you want so badly to just faint and have the pain stop. 

Blue contrails fill your vision. A bright orange blur followed by streaks of cyan break the dark night. A voice, suddenly pierces your senses. Everything else is muted and far-off (if only it was.) The voice makes its way over to you. Bright bright blue makes you squint.

“This one's still alive! Over here!” 

You feel the pull of sleep tug at you. There is no sensation in your body except for a splitting headache. Your blinks become longer and harder to stop.

“Hey! No, stay with me! You're gonna be alright! Help is coming! Stay with me, stay with-”

Your eyes snap open and you jerk forward in your bed. The force makes your arm and leg spark with pain. There is a shadow above you holding you down. You start to scream but before you can get air in your lungs it puts a single finger to your lips. You're still afraid but you don't scream. 

Your eyes adjust in the dark and see a man, cursed. In the dark you can only just make out his form. He takes his hands off of you and you hear the soft noise of bandages moving against other bandages. You can't see much except for the whites of his eyes which are bloodshot and tired, so tired. 

“What are you-.” the words barely leave your mouth when he grasps his arm, no sound comes out but he emotes a response registered as pain. His hand comes away bloody. His arm drips onto the tile floor as he turns and shuffles back across the room. He disappears behind his white curtain. Sleep begins to pull at you again.

You cannot see anything but his silhouette moving against the white curtain. He seemed to be unwrapping the bandage on his arm. The man screamed but it didn't sound like a scream. It was dry and raspy, like a ghostly wail. His fist hit a button by his bed and a red glow appeared behind the curtain. You see what you presume is blood drip faster from his body. Not just from his arm but from most every limb. He screams again just as Dr. Ziegler enters the room. You close your eyes to feign sleep and go tense under the bedsheets.

You heard the doctor _swish_ the curtain back and gasp audibly. 

“What happened? What _happened_?!” She's restraining herself from shouting and waking the whole floor. It comes out as a whispered scream. The sheer horror you can hear in her voice makes you cringe a little in fear of what's happening.

“Hold still...hold still!” Ziegler urges the man. Then you close your eyes. You begin to sleep. And the sleep is restless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make no mistake i adore reaper but i needed an antagonistic force and he fit the bill for a rising action "villian". pbtpbtpb anyway i hope you liked the chapter


	3. Cheese Sandwich.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> breakfast at ziegler's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for: blood/ brief descriptions of gore.

The light is what wakes you in the morning. Tiny rays of light stretch through the window and touch your eyelids. It's a well-needed change from a nurse's voice telling you to eat. The sun warms your puffy eyes, smoothing out some of the soreness from crying last night. In the reflection of yourself in the window, there is a spot on your cheek. You put your finger to it and it crumbles into several tiny flakes on your finger print. It's dried blood. You search for wounds on your face, checking near your nostril to see if you had a blood nose during the night. You find no cut or stream of blood that could've produced it. Concluding it's not your own blood your stomach lurches in revulsion. 

You recall the events from the middle of the night that happened mere hours ago. It was the figure's. You don't know whether to feel relieved or further disgusted at realizing it's source was from the wounded body of your roommate. You brush the dried flakes away and wipe at your face to remove any other blots. You check your sheets and your pajamas and find a few stray drops and one streak on the rail of your bed. Dark red against the off-white makes your stomach roll a little. Turning over, you see the curtain is still there, moved slightly. Though the light is coming through your side of the room, you can make out your roommate's figure; lying on his side with an IV pole, a dialysis machine, and a ventilator hooked up to his body. The breathing machine gives off a gentle hum that makes the floor around him vibrate.  
The man is almost entirely on life support. In a sudden defeatist wash of thought, you wonder why Dr. Ziegler doesnt just put him on hospice and wait for him to give up the ghost. You mentally chide yourself, wondering if that was you. You'd probably want to be treated with the utmost care. Dr. Ziegler was essentially tying his soul to shreds of flesh. But who could be sure. Maybe the man hated his life bound to machines and a hospital bed, maybe he wanted to die. Maybe he would. 

A nurse walks in and smiles gently at you. You discard your thoughts about the roommate and turn your attention to the male nurse who had just walked in with your breakfast and pills. Breakfast is usually the same, except on Sundays there are pancakes for the patients that can handle solid foods, those who can't get a soft fruit cup. Today its the standard scrambled eggs with milk and a cheese sandwich. Your pain meds go down easy, and a tiny sigh escapes you as you take them down with a bite of the cheese sandwich. You eat quickly, chewing through the tiny bits of eggshells, giving the tray back to your nurse.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, taking the tray and setting it aside.

“Fine,” you lie. “Who is that?” you ask and point to the roommate behind the curtain. The nurse turns his head and a look of deep sympathy crosses over his face, his eyes go softer for a moment.

“Oh, he's really...really. Yeah...” 

Not the answer you were expecting but his expression gives you the impression he's to be pitied. From what you saw, his whole body was in bandages, and even moving around opened up the wounds beneath them. 

“There's a lot he'll have to go through. Extensive physical training, years of rehabilitation. Angela, er, uh, Dr. Ziegler was the one to find him, bleeding, his guts hanging out of his body. Nobody thought he'd ever make it out of the ICU alive. Your doctor is something else.”

You nod, understanding. Her bedside manner was impeccable and she was easy on the eyes too. 

Even with the nurse's explanation, you still couldn't help but speculate as to who he is or was before he came here. Or what happened to have him so badly injured that he needed constant medical attention. You go back to looking out the window, watching the birds pass by.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again!! i really want there to be a lot of character buildup and interactions before any Juicy Stuff happens.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for a bland opening chapter, i wanted to make a good foundation first and foremost! again, leave a comment telling me what you'd want to see later on if you'd like!


End file.
